CLANG! CRASH! CLATTER! Silence. That's what I woke up to the day that I died. See, I was sleeping peacefully, deep in the belly of a mountain, when some blasted being knocked a bucket down a well and woke me up. Now, normally, I'm a reasonable person, balrog, creature. You get it. But somebody had woken me up from my twenty-five-year long nap and I wasn't super happy about that. Plus, I'm a complete demon before I've had my morning fire water. I knew that there were about a bajillion goblins running around upstairs, and they were probably to blame. I figured I'd go take a couple hundred out for kicks and giggles and then go back to sleep. Oh ho ho. How wrong was I.
I dragged myself upstairs, and by the time I got there, I saw the last of the goblins skittering away. Blast! But then I saw nine little things, people. Some big, some small. They must be the culprits of the bucket that woke me up. Shame. The little ones were kinda cute. But nobody wakes a balrog from a nap and walks away. Except for some upstart named Glorfindel- Mama told me stories about Uncle Sharaz-Gut who got gutted by that guy. So, I tried to avoid elves, which supposedly were not supposed to find me here. But there was an elf. I almost left them alone. But you know, I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have the goblins thinking I've grown soft. Anyway, I chased those guys, but my heart really wasn't in it. I didn't want to get all riled up- otherwise I would never get back to sleep. And that's really what I wanted. SLEEP. I watched them run down some stairs. And then the goblins were back? Oh. My. Heck. Those guys are so annoying. I do not miss them- they were terrible upstairs neighbors. Seriously. Some of the parties they threw put the dwarves to shame.
I followed those poor little people as they just about tumbled into the abyss with some chunks of rock. And then out of nowhere this epic music started playing. It was so weird. But I wasn't dreaming. I had just about decided to turn around and let them go- we were getting close to daylight and I HATE daylight. It does a number on my skin like you wouldn't believe. In fact, they were crossing a skinny bridge when the old guy stopped and turned around like he was gonna fight me. I stopped, because obviously, I was done with this game. And then he yelled at me, "YOU CANNOT PASS!"
The nerve of this guy! Okay Gramps, I'll just go drink my juice now- NO! Who do you think I am? No way. I'll fight you if you tell me what to do. So, I just kinda roared at him, but it was embarrassingly hoarse- haven't used my voice for a while. I tried again, I told him I was going back to bed. But I don't think he speaks Balrog? He had the audacity to basically tell me to go to hell. You know what, I'll quote him. He said, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!" Oh boy. I was gonna leave ya'll be, but them's fightin' words. You're going down little gray man! But then he was apparently a wizard? So he broke the bridge at my feet and made me fall?! Ugh. Immortals. I freaking hate them. I cracked my whip and hooked his ankle. If I fall, you fall, petty Maiar. So we fell for a while, fighting, biting, scratching, whatever to try to take the other down. And I think we both won? Or we both lost? Cause we both died, but then apparently his quest was super noble *eyerolls so hard* so he got to go save the world from that baby Sauron. Morgoth was a better bad guy anyway. We're buds, Morgoth and I. We hang out and roast hot dogs with the rest of the damned. It's not too bad most days. I just wish they had marshmallows here. I'm not a fan of mystery meat. Or wizards.